


Strangers, Now

by FalseDevotion



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hardships, I warn you, Loneliness, M/M, Post-Break Up, like really, relationships, this is angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 22:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19238362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalseDevotion/pseuds/FalseDevotion
Summary: “What…” Michael started, and Ashton heard him swallowing slowly, like the words took a toll on him just to come out. But Michael only finished his question once the older looked back up to him, meeting his gaze as he tried to slip on a mask. To hide behind a well-practiced blank expression. “What’s going on?” Michael finally finished, his eyes ten times more worried.“Nothing new.” Ashton shrugged.It really wasn’t new.“That doesn’t mean it’s not something.” Michael countered, and Ashton silently cursed him for being so good at noticing everything. “You’ve changed.”Ashton didn’t deny that. He couldn’t deny it.“So have you.” He shrugged again.OrAshton meets with Michael again years after their break-up.





	Strangers, Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [megr0se](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megr0se/gifts).



> I had these feelings I needed to get out of my chest, and they turned into this fic. This is angsty af, so I'm apologizing ahead for that.
> 
> Huge, huge thanks to Meg (megr0se here and roseymeg on tumblr) for helping me with this!! You're a sweetheart ❤️ I feel weird gifting something this angsty to you, but I hope you can enjoy it! Thanks thanks thanks for the help :3
> 
> I always work with playlist from Spotify, if you want to take a look at the one I wrote this to, here's the [link](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5peSHYhub9a7kLl21bLZ2i?si=d40BLoyyRO-nvz90BVmJmw)

There was a current of warm air slipping out when Ashton opened the door to the little café. He closed it quickly after him, mindful of the heat escaping from the cosy place, before taking out his gloves and beanie. He scouted the tables, looking for a familiar face –even if it had been three years since the last time they saw each other face to face–. He couldn’t see anything, not with the way his glasses had fogged up. Ashton cleaned them swiftly, squinting as he tried to look for _him_ even if everything looked like blobs without them. No one caught his eye, and what used to be their table was empty. _He_ wasn’t here yet.

Ashton should have expected it. _Him_ , arriving late. He supposed some things didn’t change, even after years.

People in the near tables were starting to eye him, standing next to the door like he was lost. Ashton _felt_ lost. But his feet still carried him towards what used to be their table automatically, not even taking in how the decorations of the place had changed during the time he hadn’t been there.

He took his coat off in a trance, his ears numbed with the sound of his own heartbeat. It was always beating fast these days, especially when Ashton was out of home. His eyes travelled the place again from his seat, blinking in when the lights from behind the bar hit his eyes. Those were new.

Some waiter came to take his order, but Ashton muttered with an apologetic smile that he was waiting for someone. It was weird, being here. Again.

It was weird how he had dialled up _that number_ a couple days ago. In the middle of night. After three years, and the numbers were still seared onto his memory. Three years. And yet _he_ had answered.

It scared Ashton a little bit, too. That _he_ was so ready to take his call. That _he_ was so ready to meet again. Although, the younger had always wanted to. Ashton had been the one to insist they needed time apart after the break-up. _He_ never seemed to understand that at first, demanding time together so he could ‘fix it’. There had been nothing to fix, though. And Ashton thought the years would have for sure squashed the other boy’s eagerness to get back together, but given by his insistence that they meet, perhaps it hadn’t been so.

Ashton had never intended getting back together. _‘Once we’re over, we’re over. I don’t want strings weighing either of us down.’_

 _He_ hadn’t understood that either, at first. He had tried left and right to remain in Ashton’s life. _‘To keep the friendship’_ , he had said. Both of them had known better. Then, after half a year, _he_ seemed to understand Ashton didn’t want to get back together. _He_ understood why there couldn’t be even friendship between them anymore. The older was ashamed of some things he had said, in order to make him understand. How cruel he had been.

_I don’t care about your life. Not anymore._

_I won’t care, in the future._

_It’s just... I don’t feel the **need** to care. I..._

Ashton had hated –still hated– himself for those words, but, it had had to be done. The younger hadn’t tried contacting him again after those, which had been good for Ashton. Had given him time to learn how to live without the other boy. Because he hadn’t known how to do that. They had always had each other.

Since then, they had only spoken twice. Once, on _his_ birthday last year, when Ashton wished him a good day. Once during Christmas. Both had been via text. They hadn’t even seen each other again, despite still living in the same city.

Ashton couldn’t say he missed him. Not really. Did he miss having someone? Sometimes. But he didn’t miss _him_. Not specifically.

Maybe that was because he wasn’t in the position of missing anyone. He didn’t feel much of anything now.

The other night... Ashton was embarrassed he had called the younger boy like that, in the middle of the night, sobbing like the life was being sucked out of him, having difficulty breathing, needing someone to tell him everything was going to be okay. He shouldn’t have done it. Dial up his number. Seeking him out like that.

And yet.

Here Ashton was, because _he_ had insisted on them meeting and having at least coffee, probably out of concern for Ashton. And... Ashton hadn’t been able to refuse.

It had been such a long time since someone last asked him if he was _okay_.

Maybe... Maybe talking to someone, someone who used to know him. All of him. Maybe that would be good. That would help him understand how things had gotten so messed up in his mind. Would help him untangle his jumbled thoughts and take a look at how warped everything was now through his eyes.

He wondered if _he_ would even notice the changes. They were subtle. Ashton knew he was a good actor, too. Had learned to hide it all beneath smiles and fake cheeriness. After all, his family hadn’t noticed a thing. No one had, except for maybe Calum. Before Ashton babbled about it, there had been some looks.

The black-haired boy knew about it from Ashton’s own mouth, knew about his state of mind, but he didn’t know a great amount. Only what Ashton had needed to confess one drunken night because he couldn’t keep it in any longer. He knew he had scared Calum. How casually he had spoken about his feelings. Calum hadn’t known what to answer, Ashton knew. It was normal, when your best friend told you he had given up. On his dreams. On everything.

Ashton shivered, a sudden gust of cold air ruffling through the hairs at the back of his neck. He had purposefully sat facing away from the doors, not wanting to be caught looking up every time they opened and closed. Ashton didn’t know how he would react once the younger boy was back in front of him. Ashton didn’t know if he would even feel anything. His heart had been still for so long, he didn’t know if he was even capable of feeling fondness. And yet he knew in his mind that’s what only remained of a love that had consumed him once. Fondness.

Lately Ashton’s thoughts had kept wandering back to the blonde boy. Whatever happened to him after they parted. If he was better now. If he was _happy_. It was weird, because Ashton hadn’t thought of that in ages.

Calum had offered updates now and then at the start. Whenever him and Ashton had finally had a chance to catch up with each other, the dark-haired boy had slipped _him_ into the conversation. Ashton had refused to know anything about him, and… Calum had stopped bringing his name up after a while. It wasn’t like Ashton couldn’t take knowing about the other boy’s life. He just… He didn’t truly feel entitled to know. Not if he wasn’t the one asking. And Ashton had never felt like asking. Not really.

Calum had remained friends with _him_ , although Ashton thought maybe their friendship had also gotten cold with time. Ashton had hated himself those first few weeks. He knew breaking up with _him_ had put Calum in the most uncomfortable position, even if the dark-haired boy had distanced himself from the break-up, trying to remain neutral. It hadn’t been exactly easy. For any of them. He didn’t think they still spoke, Calum never mentioned him now. Not to Ashton. Not to Luke. And Ashton wondered if _he_ had lost Calum and Luke too as a direct result of his break up with Ashton. The older boy hoped not. He hoped–

“Ash?”

Michael’s voice came from behind him, slightly wavering and disbelieving, like he hadn’t actually expected Ashton to be there. Like he hadn’t expected the older to show up. Ashton didn’t blame him.

His heart got up to his throat, though, and Ashton suddenly felt frozen. He couldn’t move a muscle. He had forgotten how warm Michael’s voice was. The way his name rolled out of the younger’s tongue. The fondness seeping in. It was like being taken back to the past, when they were still happy and Ashton hadn’t broken them. Hadn’t broken their future.

He forced himself to snap out of it, though, turning to face Michael. He wasn’t exactly expecting the sight that welcomed him.

Michael had grown taller, slender. He had three solid bands around his right arm now, like he had always said he wanted, another smaller tattoo on his wrist and a couple more piercings than Ashton remembered. The black hair was new, too. At least for Ashton.

The small smile was not.

That hadn’t changed.

At all.

“Hi.” Ashton muttered, his eyes travelling everywhere but to Michael’s own.

The younger boy leaned down as if to give him a hug, and Ashton couldn’t stop himself from flinching away. He knew by the faint gasp that escaped past Michael’s lips he hadn’t expected _that_ reaction, and a weird weight made its way onto Ashton’s chest, tightening it in its fist and causing Ashton to struggle for breath.

“Can I… take a seat?” Michael said, hesitant.

“Yeah.” Ashton mumbled quickly. Not even looking up. For some reason he felt unable to look up. Unable to meet Michael’s gaze.

He had wondered what he would feel when he saw Michael again. And… he felt uncomfortable. There was no other way to describe it. His skin prickled under what he was sure was Michael’s attentive gaze. Ashton felt _watched_. He was acutely aware now of the younger boy’s gaze on him like he had never been aware before. It made him feel icky in his own skin, made him long for a quick exit. Made him curse himself for having agreed to being here. This was a mistake.

“I–”

“Ash?” Michael spoke at the same time, making him flinch again, his eyes darting up without his consent and meeting the younger’s for just a second.

He stubbornly looked back down to his lap, his hands suddenly fretting with his jumper. He wanted to run away, and yet, he felt glued to his seat.

“Why won’t you look at me?” Michael’s voice came softly, pained.

And Ashton felt instantly worse. He felt _guilty_. He had come to terms with their breakup a long time ago. Even before he cut things off. But… he hadn’t yet caught up with his feelings of guilt about destroying what they had built together. It wasn’t an overwhelming feeling. It just made him feel extremely uncomfortable, knowing the pain he had caused Michael. And knowing that the younger was willing to help him again without a second thought just made it all the worst for Ashton.

“I–” He started, but the words got stuck in his throat.

For some reason tears were prickling at the corner of his eyes and he was having even more difficulty breathing. The weight on his chest was pressing on, and Ashton clutched the end of the table, trying to make his racing heart go back to its normal pace. Or what was supposed to be its normal pace. Ashton didn’t think his heart had really taken a rest since a long time ago. Nowadays it raced for everything.

“Do you want me to go?” Michael asked, his voice infinitely small. So small it was almost hard to hear him above the chattering of all the other people in the café.

“… I–”

“Hi, are you ready to order now?”

Ashton’s eyes snapped upwards towards the waiter, feeling the panic rise inside. It must have shown through his eyes, because the waiter looked taken aback.

“We need a bit more time, if you don’t mind.” Michael said, his voice ever so kindly. And when Ashton’s eyes crossed with his this time, he couldn’t look away.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll have a decaf latte.” Ashton muttered quickly, the sadness in Michael’s eyes getting to him a bit.

“Okay. You, sir?”

“Black coffee.” The now black-haired boy mumbled, tearing his gaze away from Ashton and sending an apologetic smile to the waiter.

Ashton wouldn’t have wanted to be in his position, having walked into what he had. He pitied the guy, but… His heart was still up in his throat, and his eyes returned to the table after one last look to Michael.

It were several seconds of awkward silence before Michael spoke again.

“I didn’t know you drank coffee. You used to hate it.”

That made Ashton chuckle softly.

He didn’t know what else to say. How to face Michael after all those months, _years_ , really. Ashton didn’t know how to look him in the eye. He still felt watched as he scratched a part of the table that was peeling off, feeling utterly self-conscious. He wished he were anywhere but there.

“Are you even going to talk to me?” Michael muttered, and it almost broke Ashton’s heart, the confusion and sadness seeping in. It would have certainly broken it if Ashton had had a heart that felt anything.

“I’m sorry, I–. I don’t know how to talk to you.” Ashton muttered back.

Michael just hummed. Until, “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Ashton confessed under his breath, this time daring to look back up and seeing Michael’s eyes indeed studying him. But they weren’t curious. Just sad. Even when he sent him a small smile, they remained sad.

Ashton’s eyes travelled over him, taking in everything he hadn’t been able to take in at that first glance. How Michael’s pale skin seemed even paler in his arms now, with the dark bands standing stark against it too. How, despite how cold Ashton felt, wrapped up in a sweater, Michael was wearing just a short-sleeved tee and nothing else. Ashton spied a grey jean jacket at the back of Michael’s chair and wondered if that even protected him from the cold wind outside.

He glanced back down to Michael’s hands, and there it was. That tattoo he had gotten when they first got together, staring at Ashton in the face. It had faded. A lot. Even more than what Ashton remembered it fading during their time together. Almost like Ashton’s feelings for Michael had faded towards the end of their relationship.

Ashton finally peered up to Michael’s face, his eyes travelling upwards through the younger’s tee. His necklaces. The scruff he still wore that used to drive Ashton crazy. When he finally took a chance to look him in the eye, Michael’s were lost in the table.

He looked older, and, even when Ashton could still see the boy he had been in love with once upon a time underneath it all, he felt like... A stranger.

“You look good, Mike.” He finally whispered.

The other boy glanced up, the smile returning to his lips until his eyes met Ashton’s gaze, making it disappear again.

“I’m better, now.” Michael answered, having caught on to what Ashton was really asking.

“I’m happy that you are.” Ashton answered honestly, a miniscule smile making its way past his lips. Just a twitch of the muscles.

Michael nodded, lacing his hands together, his thumb stroking over the three little dots on his ring finger. Ashton followed the movement as if in a trance.

The waiter came and went as they stayed there, silent, each lost to their own thoughts. The uncomfortable feeling had faded somewhat, but it was still there. Still lurking behind Ashton’s back, raring to go back up again. Michael hadn’t looked back up to him, and it somehow unsettled him even more.

“Are you working now?” He suddenly asked, surprising himself and Michael, whose eyes darted upwards fretfully.

“Yeah. And studying. I got into uni after all.” He said with a small voice.

There wasn’t a smile there, and Ashton knew how much getting into uni would have cost Michael, and he felt like an asshole for asking. And yet he continued down that road. It was easier than taking the other.

“That’s great, Michael. Really great.” He said, trying to smile, and this time his muscles reacted naturally to the impulse.

Michael returned it, but his eyes were hesitant of Ashton’s sudden talkativeness. Ashton would be weary of himself too, if he were Michael. He didn’t even know why he was suddenly in the mood for talking. Maybe it was his brain’s way of covering up how wrong everything felt right now. He felt like his reality had shifted just a smidge to the right. Everything was where it had been before but had been moved slightly out of place. Ashton’s skin prickled and he could feel the hairs at the back of his neck standing up. This world was wrong.

Just then his phone beeped loudly with incoming messages from his front pocket and… Ashton had always been one to not take his phone out if he was in the middle of conversations out of respect for the other person but. He needed a break right now. And Michael was already looking at him and nodding almost imperceptibly.

He fished the phone and unlocked it quickly, seeing a string of at least 30 messages from Luke. Wondering if it could possibly be something urgent, Ashton opened the chat. What he found was what he should have expected from the beginning. Memes and screenshots and even more memes about the end of Game of Thrones, and. Well. It was Luke. Ashton should’ve known. He was about to close the chat again when his eyes caught one of the last ones Luke had sent, something about a watchful dog. He couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped him at it.

Michael was glancing at him curiously from his place, his hands clutching his mug tightly as he blew over it to cool it down. But it should have been cold enough by now. It had been more than twenty minutes since they were served. It was an obvious way of hiding what he had been doing, which Ashton supposed was stare at the phone in his hands.

“That was Luke.” He clarified. “Some Game of Thrones memes.”

“Oh.” Michael leaned back a bit, leaving the coffee back down on the table. “Did you watch the finale?”

At that, Ashton did laugh. A little loudly.

“Are you kidding me?” He blurted out. “Of course I did.”

Michael shook his head with a smile, as if to say he should’ve known. After all, Ashton had been the one to get him into Game of Thrones after having read the books himself.

“What did you think?” The younger asked, a smirk curving his lip. Ashton used to want to kiss it off, but he hadn’t felt that urge for a while. For a long while. Now the curve of Michael’s lip was just a reminder of what they had been.

“I’d rather keep my thoughts to myself.” Ashton finally muttered, not wanting to get into fandom stuff.

If they did, he knew they could be easily talking here in their corner for hours on end. They had had before, once upon a time. It had been one of the topics they never got tired of.

“So you thought it was shit.” Michael concluded anyway with a laugh.

Ashton snorted too, his heart giving a squeeze for the first time since he saw Michael. Finally feeling something else that wasn’t nervousness or dread weighing it down. It was nostalgia, but it also was a sort of glee he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Of course Michael had seen through Ashton’s words, not wanting to give a comment because he had too much to say. Michael reading him like an open book had always been a thing for them. The now black-haired boy had known Ashton better than anyone else. Probably better than anyone ever would.

Ashton had closed himself off after that. After _him_. And it wasn’t like their breakup had been because of traumatic stuff. Ashton had just realised,… For as good as Michael had treated him and as good as they had known each other… They simply hadn’t been _good_ for each other. They had had problems they would have never seen eye to eye on, and. It had just been better for them both.

He knew Michael had come to think so too. Calum had passed on that information a year in, how Michael had told him he had come to terms of why Ashton had ended them, with the reason why the oldest had broken things off. That he understood the reasons behind Ashton’s actions that afternoon, even when at first they had seemed alien to him.

When Ashton looked up this time, Michael was looking straight at him, lower lip between his teeth and a look that spoke of worry. And Ashton knew he had to manoeuvre the conversation elsewhere before Michael tackled why they were really here. He still didn’t feel ready to talk about that. He didn’t think he ever would.

“How are your parents?” Ashton asked instead, and he could see Michael’s eyes squinting just a second, trying to discern why he was avoiding the real thing. But he entertained Ashton anyway.

“They’re good. Dad’s retired, in the end. He couldn’t keep up.” Michael said, scratching his beard. “Mum’s still the same.” He added with a laugh.

“Still coddling you?” Ashton translated. And Michael laughed harder.

“Yeah. Still coddling me.” The younger shook his head. “How’re Lauren and Harry?”

“Grown up.” Ashton pouted.

They were one of the few good things Ashton still had in his life, and they had grown up so fast. He couldn’t believe Lauren was already heading for uni. That Harry was every day closer and closer to his height. It was scary, how _fast_ time seemed to go through them when Ashton himself felt stuck.

“I’m sure they’re doing great.” Michael answered him with a smile. “I ran into your mum a couple months ago. She told me Lauren was graduating?”

“Yeah.” Ashton smiled, proud. “She’s graduating top of her class.”

“I remember when she used to wedge between us both to watch movies.” Michael snorted.

“Yeah. She cockblocked us a bunch of times, didn’t she?” Ashton conceded with a laugh. “But I think she knew what she was doing.”

“Well, she’s always been the smartest one out of you lot.” Michael shrugged nonchalantly. Then he broke out laughing.

Ashton had almost forgotten how full of life Michael’s laugh sounded when it came from deep within. How he literally rolled with laughter, his cheeks dusting pink. Ashton used to love that. Used to love being the cause of that laugh.

For a moment… For a moment there Ashton was hit with a wave of nostalgia so hard that even breathing came hard. How they were just casually talking about their families. How they were just laughing, relaxed, like they were friends. Like they _still_ were friends. And then the cold reality of Michael having grown into someone Ashton didn’t know hit him right in the chest. Some years ago, he never contemplated the possibility of it. And now it was them, again. Together here in this place. But it wasn’t _them_. It would never be _them_ again.

Michael seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because his laughter subsided and his expression turned sad and thoughtful. And of course that hit Ashton even harder. But he would not break here. Not in a public place. Not when he had already gone through the shame of breaking down over the phone two days ago, having been had to be calmed down by his _ex boyfriend._

“You look like shit.” Michael finally mouthed, and even when it had been no louder than a whisper, it still resonated in Ashton’s ears for a moment too loudly.

“Thanks.” He replied sarcastically. He couldn’t really deny it.

Ashton knew he had lost weight. He knew he had lost some muscle, too, since Michael last saw him. He knew about the dark circles beneath his eyes, but his glasses usually distracted people from that. And yet, no one had directly confronted him for it. No one had talked to him about it. No one had _asked_.

He had thought Michael would have it harder to notice because of the time. But perhaps it was that what had given him an edge to caught on to what was going on. Or the phone-call.

“I mean it, Ashton. You don’t look fine.” Michael pressed, his voice sounding even urgent now. He leaned forward and looked Ashton in the eye. “I’m worried about you.”

Ashton just shrugged at that.

“You needn’t be.”

It wasn’t Michael’s responsibility to care. Not anymore. And Ashton hadn’t called him that night for him to _worry_. No. He had called him because Michael had known him best, once upon a time. And at the moment Ashton had felt he was growing the crazier he had ever been, his mind had turned to look for the person who best could calm it down. Even if that wasn’t their relationship anymore. Even if there had been virtually _no relationship_ at all between them for three years.

“I still am, Ash.” Michael whispered, extending his hand and making to grab Ashton’s on the table, but the older was quicker. He retreated his hand to his lap, away from Michael’s comfort. Ashton wasn’t supposed to take comfort from him. From anyone, really.

Michael left his hand still on top of the table, just where Ashton’s had been. Like an open offering, even when the older had just turned it down. It was staring at Ashton in the face like a reminder that Michael was and had always been too good for him. Even despite their differences.

“What…” Michael started, and Ashton heard him swallowing slowly, like the words took a toll on him just to come out. But Michael only finished his question once the older looked back up to him, meeting his gaze as he tried to slip on a mask. To hide behind a well-practiced blank expression. “What’s going on?” Michael finally finished, his eyes ten times more worried.

“Nothing new.” Ashton shrugged.

It really wasn’t _new._

“That doesn’t mean it’s not _something_.” Michael countered, and Ashton silently cursed him for being so good at noticing everything. “You’ve changed.”

Ashton didn’t deny that. He couldn’t deny it.

“So have _you_.” He shrugged again.

Michael sighed, his free hand going up to rub at his eyes. And then he chuckled, a tiredly.

“Don’t deflect my questions, Ash.” He murmured under his breath, hand still covering his eyes. “I used to be the one doing that with you. I am not here for a repeat.” 

Ashton scoffed at that. Yeah. That had probably been one of the stones that tilted the scale on his mind to finally break them off. Michael always deflecting, denying what he was feeling, denying when he wasn’t _okay_. Ashton knew he was being such a hypocrite now, behaving the exact same way he had criticised the younger for endlessly during their last months together.

“Just leave it, Michael.” He muttered, his eyes flitting away from Michael’s face as the younger finally took down his hand. The place was now less crowded, not a table occupied near them. A girl Ashton remembered from when they were regulars back in the day was eyeing them from behind the counter. He sent a nod towards her, the girl giving him a tentative smile before getting back to work.

They had even turned down the music from the speakers, now it was no more than background sound to the soft conversations coming from the booths at the back. Ashton had kind of missed this place. Michael and him used to come here at least once a week. They’d just. March up to their table and spend hours and hours there just talking, laughing, living. After their break-up Ashton hadn’t had the heart to come in through the wooden doors anymore. He hadn’t wanted to run into Michael, not while he was trying to put some _distance_ between them, trying to break their codependency. And after that was done, well… Ashton hadn’t wanted to walk into the memories either.

“No.” Michael suddenly piped in, voice firm.

Something about his tone made Ashton’s eyes snap upwards, meeting Michael’s steel gaze, his green eyes letting on that he wasn’t going to budge on this. And still Ashton tried to make it sound like he wasn’t following along.

“ _‘No’_ , what?”

“No, I’m not _‘leaving it.’_ “ Michael stated.

Ashton held his breath, his eyes this time keeping locked on the younger’s as a battle of wills was carried out in silence. Michael seemed like he had grown more self-assured in these three years they had been apart, because when they were together, he would have just let this slide, not raising questions. The younger had always thought that if they didn’t discuss their problems out loud, they would just suddenly disappear. Ashton missed him thinking like that. It would all have been so much easier.

“Why did you agree to meet up with me, Ashton?” He asked now. “Why did you call _me_ the other night?”

Ashton sighed, finally breaking of their stare and casting his eyes down low. He took his cup, swallowing the remaining coffee slowly while his left hand clutched the cloth of his trousers tightly. He really didn’t know _why_. Because he wasn’t really looking for getting Michael back in his life. It hadn’t truly been a conscious decision. It had just… happened.

“I don’t know.” Ashton finally whispered, his voice low. “I don’t know, you’re… You’re just–.” He stopped himself. Michael wasn’t anybody to him. Not anymore. “ _I don’t know_.”

He took a deep breath. Michael insistence had caught him off guard. He hadn’t expected _that_ , and now he felt even more unsure about everything. Michael had changed _a lot._ He himself had changed a lot. How could they even talk like they knew each other when it wasn’t _them_ anymore? Why had he called Michael? It wasn’t like the younger boy could help him through whatever this was. He couldn’t. No one could.

Ashton’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and he started to feel self-conscious again of the people in the café. He felt flayed open, raw, and he wasn’t even talking about what was making him feel so lost. Didn’t know if he could even put it into words for Michael. Ashton was just _there_. His heart was back to beating loudly in his ears, his breath coming up a little more rushed than it should be. And his mind was again tangled and confused, thoughts never clearing up.

He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table and resting his face in his hands, taking a deep breath and trying to get himself in some kind of order. He could hear Michael’s breathing in front of him, the slight rustle of his clothes as he moved in his seat. The sound is chair scratching the floor as the younger stood up. Then the sound was gone, and so was Michael, Ashton supposed.

He didn’t blame him. Ashton was in no fit state for any company at all.

It was taking it all he had not to break down crying again, feeling stupid that he actually would in the middle of a public place. Thing was, he just didn’t care much, anymore. What was crying in public when he didn’t even feel anything anymore. There was nary a space inside his chest for any embarrassment or awkwardness. Not now that it was filled to the brim with a beast that was fighting to get out, that was stripping him of everything, making even breathing difficult.

But no sooner had he started to sniffle that a gentle hand squeezed his arm. He recognised the grip, Michael’s somehow still familiar scent surrounding him as the younger helped him up, coaxed him into his coat and guided him through the café. Ashton rubbed his face quickly, trying to put on a mask again as Michael manoeuvred them through the tables. When they reached the exit, the sudden cold hit Ashton in the face and made his eyes water some more.

Michael slid his arm gently around Ashton’s lower back, and even when the action itself made Ashton’s skin prickle again with _something_ at the touch, he didn’t recoil. He started walking towards where Michael was leading them. They crossed a few people on the streets, Ashton saw their feet hurrying in front of them or crossing next to them. There weren’t many. It was starting to go dark already, sunset happening so early now that they were close to winter.

The minutes passed in silence, Michael walking quietly beside him as he took them some place, and Ashton didn’t even know why he was letting himself be guided. Why he was letting himself go anywhere with him. He supposed the implicit trust he had deposited in the younger years ago hadn’t really wore off with time. It was weirdly calming in the midst of the blurriness in his eyes and the crushing weight he felt in his chest.

The black-haired boy came to a halt some time after. The ground had turned from cobblestone to asphalt to cobblestone again, to now soil covered in leaves. Ashton’s eyes hadn’t once looked up in the whole way there. He must have looked a bit out of it to the people crossing them. He _had been_ out of it.

The air smelled familiar there. Earthy and humid. Ashton’s eyes finally travelled upwards, and he was met with the small corner of the park where he and Michael had had their first kiss.

He would have run away, but his feet weren’t moving. He didn’t know why Michael would have brought them here. Not now. Not ever, after their break-up. Ashton had avoided this place like the plague.

The tree Michael had pushed him up against in youthful eagerness was still there, older now. Like they were. Its branches were bare, like that first time, too. And Ashton was shaking, like that first time. But now it wasn’t because of anticipation. No. Now he was just shaking because he couldn’t keep it in anymore.

He felt himself fall to his knees, tears finally falling down his face as he stubbornly tried to wipe them away, tried to make them stop. But they wouldn’t. Not now that he was alone. Or as alone as he could be, with Michael as his only company.

Ashton could feel the younger’s presence behind him, still standing. It was slightly unnerving, crying silently in front of Michael’s attentive eyes. But he didn’t care anymore. Michael had been nothing more than a memory to him for a while, and right now, not even awkwardness was capable of stopping him from breaking down. Not even embarrassment. Most of all because he barely felt them anymore. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t already made an ass of himself over the phone the other day. Michael shouldn’t be surprised by now.

During their time together Ashton had only broken down twice. Once, after their biggest fight, a year in. The second time had been the day he broke up with Michael. That had been one of the hardest decisions Ashton had ever had to make. Breaking Michael’s heart, and a piece of his own at the same time. He hadn’t been in love with Michael at that point in time, not anymore, and it still had broken his soul to say those words.

It had been Michael the one who had had to finish the sentence for him that day, though. Ashton hadn’t been able to make it through the words, his throat closing up before they even made it past his lips. That day Michael had held him as Ashton broke down even despite the reason _why_ he was breaking down. Despite him having just ripped the younger boy’s heart right out of his chest.

Michael had been one of the best things that had ever happened to Ashton, and even if he still missed him sometimes, that break up had had to happen. It had been the best for both of them. It had been. Ashton was sure. Even if it had broken them both.

Today the younger wasn’t holding him, and honestly, Ashton didn’t blame him for staying away. He had already flinched twice at his touch today. Michael must have gotten the memo.

And even if he didn’t care anymore, he felt self-conscious there, crying on his knees in front of the place where he once had felt the happiest. Believed he was the luckiest person on Earth when Michael finally kissed him. He had felt the happiest here. And now he was feeling the saddest.

No. Not saddest. That wasn’t it. This wasn’t sadness. This was something else. Something else taking hold on him and crushing his will and his everything, taking the light away. This was something else entirely. And Ashton just… He was just tired of trying to build up a fire to chase the darkness away. He didn’t have the strength anymore.

The sobs wrecking his body slowly gave path to hiccups. It turned completely dark with Ashton there, on the ground, as the temperature went down around them, the wind turning icy. And even if he hadn’t seen Michael since he broke down, he knew the younger boy had remained behind him. Standing. Watching.

It was weird he had ended up back here with Michael. Weird that he was back to the place their story started now that there was nothing left between them. Only a midnight call and Ashton sobbing. Maybe it was a sign. Of what, Ashton didn’t know.

He fell down onto his feet, body slumping in like a puppet without strings holding them up. He was shivering in his sweater now, his hands turned to icicles in the cold wind sweeping through the branches of the trees. The sound of Michael’s breathing was slightly closer now, and Ashton drew a deep breath, wiping the last of the tears away.

“I’m sorry, Mike.” He muttered, his voice breaking in the middle.

He shivered, suddenly conscious of the cold. Michael hadn’t said anything, but Ashton knew he was there. He could  hear his breathing. Ashton had memorised it what felt like ages ago. And it hadn’t changed.

“I really am sorry.”

Ashton wiped away the tear tracks in his face with the sleeve of his coat, sniffling before getting up. He was still facing the tree. The bare branches were swaying in the wind, some of them so frail that they looked like they could break any moment. Ashton gazed at them for a moment, his right hand reaching for one of them, barely even close enough to touch it. The wind brought it to him, though, and Ashton gripped his fingers around it, like he was greeting it. The bark was rough beneath his cold fingers.

When he spun around, Michael was indeed still there, eyes cast on the ground and his hands in his pockets. Ashton copied him, his hands clutching his gloves tightly inside his own pockets. He didn’t know where to begin, and yet he knew he owed Michael some kind of explanation. But he didn’t know where he could even start. If he had known, he would have already fixed himself up.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, despite himself. “For taking me out of the cafe.”

Michael shrugged before he finally glanced up. His eyes were red, too. And his nose, and his face. Ashton didn’t know if it was the cold that had turned them red.

“Are you going to tell me now what’s going on?” Michael asked.

He looked way too casual there, only his eyes betraying what had happened just before. Otherwise, it would appear just like they were catching up. Back here, together. Like the old times. The _past_.

“I don’t know.” Ashton muttered, looking away.

He couldn’t take Michael’s gaze right now.

“Okay.” He heard the younger say, coughing a little. “Then I guess I should go home.”

At that Ashton’s head snapped up.

“No.” He let out in a quick breath.

Michael arched his eyebrows at him, already turning halfway away from him. Ashton took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before looking back into Michael’s.

“I meant…” Ashton whispered, stopping a moment, shaking his head. “I meant, I _don’t know._ I don’t know what’s going on.”

Ashton looked back down when he finished, his hands in tight fists inside his pockets. He was shivering, his coat not enough to stop the cold wind cutting through the trees, making the few leaves still hanging on their branches rustle over their heads. He heard Michael’s breathing again, quick, shallow breaths, a long sigh following them after a while.

“It’s too cold outside.” He said. Then he bit his lip for a moment before opening up his mouth again. “Come. I don’t live far.”

Ashton nodded, looking up to find Michael’s smile. But it wasn’t one of the ones he remembered. This one was entirely new. It didn’t exactly reach the younger’s eyes.

Michael turned around without another word and Ashton followed him. True to his word, Michael stopped at a building not even five minutes after, fishing out his keys from his pocket. He let Ashton inside first, gesturing towards the elevator. He lived on the fifth floor. Ashton was amused at the notion that Michael’s childhood home had, too, been in a fifth floor. He and the younger boy used to people watch from the balcony. Used to imagine weird conversations happening between the people walking below.

When they reached the floor, Michael lead the way towards the end of the hallway, stopping at a door and fumbling with his keys. And then he let Ashton inside.

It wasn’t exactly what the older had been picturing. It was more… mature. That just highlighted the fact that Michael had grown up without him, while they were apart. In the years after Ashton had shoved him away. It made the older feel some kind of way.

The whole place was still very _Michael_ , though. The books Ashton remembered from his crooked shelves back at his home were there in an iron bookshelf at the end of the hall. His video games. Photos that used to adorn Michael’s walls back at his parents’. Familiar faces. Calum. Luke. Michael’s parents. His family. And… Ashton.

“I can’t believe you still have that picture.” Ashton whispered, walking down the hallway as if in a trance.

He heard Michael leaving the keys on the table at the entrance as he walked to the end of the hallway, stopping in front of the bookshelf. His hand had unconsciously stretched as if to caress over their faces. _Gosh, that moment felt so far away now_. Ashton was hanging off of Michael’s neck in that picture, both of them with huge smiles on their faces. And their _eyes…_ Ashton thought he could still, just for a moment, feel the love he had felt in that moment burning through his veins. But it was gone as quick as it had appeared.

“You didn’t keep it?”

Ashton shook his head, retreating his hand back. There were other picture frames where he was too. Both from before they started dating and after. Michael had kept them all.

“I took down the ones that I had right after…” He trailed off.

Ashton heard Michael taking out his jacket and hanging it over the coat racket the older had passed on his way to the living room.

“Why?”

Ashton turned around to face him, but Michael’s expression was too open, so full of emotion, so he glanced away.

“Too many memories staring at my face.” He shrugged. He had often felt surrounded by the memories, and when they should have felt comforting and reminiscent, they had only made him feel even guiltier. “It was a reminder of what I did.”

“You didn’t _do_ anything that wasn’t supposed to happen sooner or later, Ash.” Michael sighed.

It made Ashton grimace.

“We don’t know that.”

Michael sent him a _look_ , and for a moment it made Ashton freeze. Everything around them was eerily silent. Ashton had meant it. They would never know if it was supposed to happen, anyway. Ashton had cut their relationship short for the sake of health, but what if he had stuck it out? Would they still be together? Would he have gotten to grow up with this Michael in front of him? Know the why to his tattoos, his hair?

“Oh, but we both _do_ , Ash.”

Michael only kept looking at him with a slight amused tilt to his lips, his eyebrows arched, and Ashton was just so familiar with that expression... He felt laughter coming up his throat and he let it out, slowly. It built up as Michael’s face became even more amused at him, his green eyes twinkling. It felt like Ashton couldn’t keep it in, now, giggles tumbling out of his lips inhibited. And then Michael started to laugh too, softly, shaking his head.

It was surreal, laughing now. Ashton had been crying not that long ago. He had been feeling a huge weight pressing down on his chest for days, weeks, and now. Now he was feeling so _light_. Didn’t last long, though. Both sobered up after a short while, Michael turning away a little as he rubbed his face.

“You can leave your coat there.” He gestured towards the coatrack where his own jacket was. “I’ll go get us some beers.” He said, traces of laughter still enriching his voice.

“Water for me, please.” Ashton asked.

If Michael thought it was weird, he didn’t show. He just nodded and walked away down the hallway Ashton had come in through. Ashton turned around, a bit curious to explore the rest of the place.

There wasn’t much. A small table for the TV, a small couch, a puff. Another bookshelf, full of books. A coffee table. A couple of windows that didn’t have a balcony. And more pictures framed. A _lot_ of them. There were more of Calum here, and Luke. A couple of recent ones with the three of them on that place down the coast they had all travelled for Calum’s birthday that one summer. It was strange to Ashton, knowing that they still had contact. He had believed they didn’t anymore. Not with how neither Calum nor Luke had spoken to him about Michael in forever.

But maybe that was Ashton’s fault. His fault for taking down all his pictures with Michael. For hiding away every single evidence around him that had spoken of Michael having been a big part of his life.

Michael _had been_ his life.

Maybe Calum and Luke had taken Ashton erasing every single trace that could lead back to Michael as him never wanting to know anything else about the younger. And Ashton hadn’t. For a long time. And then it became more of a thing of not really caring about him. Not caring enough to ask. Not caring enough for Michael to be more than a fleeting thought, once every blue moon. Now he kind of regretted it.

There were Japanese textbooks piled up on the coffee table in front of the TV, an array of pens and post its stuck to the wooden surface. The only decorations on the walls were a framed map of Westeros and a big portrait of Michael with his parents from what seemed to be his high school graduation. Ashton had missed that, too. He hadn’t exactly jumped up to the idea of going, not when Michael had graduated just a short three months after their break-up. He had been proud of him, after so many years of disappointments for the younger, but… it had just been too soon.

It was weird seeing pictures of the past three years, see through still frames how Michael had grown and changed. The smiles were the same. His voice sounded the same. But Ashton felt like he was in the house of a stranger. There was a distance between them now, he could feel it as sure as if it was tangible. A transparent screen between them. There had never been anything of the sort before. That had appeared after Ashton broke them off.

They used to be thick as thieves, always in one another’s places, always together everywhere. And then… And then they fell in love and it was good for a while. Until it wasn’t. And neither of them had wanted to recognise it. So Ashton had had to toughen up and end it. And now. Now they didn’t _know_ each other.

“Here.” Michael’s voice made him flinch a little.

He turned back and took the glass Michael was offering him, taking a big gulp. He had suddenly realised how thirsty he was. Ashton supposed that had been the crying.

“You want to sit down?” Michael asked, rounding the sofa and hurrying to pick up his notes and books from the table, some pink dust colouring his cheeks as if he was embarrassed. “Sorry, I had just finished Finals week. Haven’t had a chance to…” He trailed off.

“Don’t worry.” Ashton mumbled.

When Michael gestured the couch again, he took a seat, still glancing around him.

“The place looks cool.”

“It’s just a bunch of cheap ass furniture thrown together.”

“You’re living on your own. And the place ain’t a sinkhole. That’s _good_.” Ashton rebutted him.

It brought a giggle out of Michael. And that made Ashton turn to look at him. He hadn’t caused one of those in a _long_ time.

“I guess you’re right.” Michael said, laughter tinting his voice as he took a seat next to Ashton. The older noticed he left a good foot and a half between them, and it made him feel even more out of place. “You’re looking me in the eye now.” The younger noted. “Why didn’t you…?”

“I don’t know, Mike. I was uncomfortable.” Ashton sighed.

Michael nodded, leaning forward and rubbing his eyes, his elbows resting on his knees. He didn’t say anything else. And Ashton knew it was his time to say something. And the only thing he could really say was sorry.

“I’m sorry.” He grimaced. “For everything.”

Michael just hummed, never looking up.

“I’m serious, Mike. I’m sorry for calling you the other night. And that you had to see… _that_ , today. And…” Ashton stopped to take a deep breath, preparing himself mentally for this. He had been thinking about it quite a while. “I’m sorry for the way I ended things. I should have talked to you when I started… falling out of love with you. I know we both promised to do that, but… You were going through a rough patch, and every time I thought I should bring it up, that I felt something was different, that my feelings were changing,… It wasn’t the right time. It never was the right time. And then you noticed it in my voice. That day you brought me chocolates. I couldn’t even look you in the eye, and you knew _why_. And I should have just told you way before that. I should have.” He finished with barely a whisper. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Michael was still tiredly rubbing his eyes, Ashton hearing him taking a big breath before sighing. And then he looked at him, his eyes holding some emotion that Ashton wasn’t really sure where to place.

“Are you done now?” Michael asked.

His voice was anything but kind, but Ashton still detected a hint of annoyment. He looked down on his lap as he cowered, not being able to take those eyes with that voice.

“That’s all in the past, Ash. I’m frankly more worried about what’s going on _now_.” Michael said, and Ashton had to rein himself in not to start crying again at the younger’s words. His eyes still prickled with tears, though. And Michael’s next words didn’t help. “Are you okay?”

That made him shiver, his lower lip quivering with the effort not to break down again. He shrugged, not trusting his voice not to break as soon as he opened his mouth, and another one of Michael’s sighs reached his ears.

“Have you talked to anyone?” Ashton shook his head. “Lauren?” _No. Ashton wouldn’t do that to_ _her._ “Your mum?” _His mom had enough with dealing with his siblings._  “Luke? Cal?” Michael pressed.

And Ashton couldn’t keep in the sob at Calum’s mention. The way the younger’s face had shifted when Ashton confessed he wasn’t feeling well. When he said sometimes he just wanted to do the easier thing. That he didn’t even want to seek help. He had scared Calum that day.

_Hell. He had scared himself._

“Calum knows some of it.” He mumbled, sniffing quietly as a single tear made its way down his nose, falling to his lap.

Michael sighed again. It was all full of sighs, today. And then Ashton felt Michael dropping his right hand on his shoulder, squeezing a little.

“You need to talk to _someone_ , Ashton.” The younger whispered. Another squeeze. Michael’s deep breaths. Ashton’s heart beating in his ears like drums. Tears at the corner of his eyes. “You need to. Even if you can’t talk to me.”

Ashton sniffled again. He didn’t _want_ to talk to anyone, was the thing. He didn’t want to. That wasn’t _him_. And he realised how completely hypocritical that sounded, because he had been the one telling Michael he needed to talk to someone for months right until they broke up. He had been the one insisting. And now he couldn’t even take his own advice.

“Ash.” Michael’s tone sounded forceful. “Listen to me. I’ve been there. You _know_ that.”

He nodded, glancing to his left where Michael was looking at him. His hand was still squeezing on Ashton’s shoulder, but all there was in his eyes was gentleness.

“If you’ve been having… meltdowns like the one from two nights ago, you _need_ to talk to someone.”

“I _can’t_.” Ashton breathed out, and it seemed to be the shift that broke the dam. But there weren’t sobs wrecking through him this time. It were only tears. Falling slowly down his face. And he felt unable to stop them.

“I don’t want to say something as predictable as _‘can’t or won’t’_ , because we both know the answer to that.” That tore a watery chuckle out of Ashton. “How long has this been going on?”

Ashton shrugged, lowering his face towards his right shoulder, wiping his tears there.

“I don’t know. It comes and goes.”

“Yes. But _how long_ , Ash?” Michael pressed, and Ashton felt that weight on his chest again. Constricting it. His lungs. His breathing becoming harder and harder.

“It was bad for a while before we started dating.” Ashton admitted under his breath. He was afraid of what Michael would think of that. But it hadn’t been bad for long. He didn’t want Michael to have that impression. “And then, after. Some months after we, I…” He stopped, a sob getting in the middle of his sentence at the thought of their breakup. “While I was with you it disappeared. That was good. I was happy.”

He heard Michael taking a deep breath to his left, and he knew the younger was preparing himself to talk.

“Were you? Really?” The black-haired boy whispered, and there was something in his voice that made the weight on Ashton’s chest to grow, hurting.

“Of course, Mikey.” He said earnestly, turning to look at the younger. “I was _happy_ with you.”

“I wondered.” Michael muttered, like he didn’t really believe it. It broke Ashton’s heart a little. That he had thought Ashton had been anything but the happiest when they were together.

“I thought you knew that.” He whispered back.

“You weren’t exactly forthcoming, Ash.” Michael chuckled, but it was a tired, sad laugh. “I didn’t know what you were feeling half of the time.”

 _Hadn’t he been?_ Ashton remembered their time together differently, then. He had thought himself as loving as he’d ever be with anyone. He had thought himself like an open book for Michael to read. And now the guilt over Michael not having known that he was _loved_ hung over Ashton’s head, adding to the burden of having ended their relationship.

But, Michael had _known_ that. He had sensed when Ashton was readying himself to end it. That day, when he came visit by surprise. Ashton had been talking with Luke about cutting things off with Michael. He had decided it. And then Michael had come out of nowhere with a box of chocolates. And his eyes were so full of love, and… and Ashton hadn’t been able to hide what he felt in that moment. Because Michael had _known_.

“You knew it when I decided to break us up.” He mumbled, another tear sliding down his cheek. The pressure on his chest was there and breathing hurt more each time Ashton took a breath.

“That’s different.” Michael shook his head. “Your feelings were written right across your face. And your _eyes_ , Ash. Your voice cracked. I’d have had to be really dumb not to notice _that_.”

Ashton hummed. He didn’t really know what to make of that. Because Michael had read him perfectly today. Ashton had always thought Michael was the person who knew him best, had always thought Michael could read him anytime, anywhere. He had never even thought of the possibility of Michael not understanding him, not knowing what he was feeling. Ashton had never considered that the younger couldn’t read him.

And yet today… Today Michael had known something was wrong right off the bat, too. Had called him out on it. Just like the last time they were face to face.

“And today?”

“Have you even looked yourself in a mirror, Ash?” Michael whispered, finally turning to look at him again. His voice was sad. Sadder than Ashton remembered it ever being. Not even when they broke up. “You look like a ghost. Like you’re halfway gone.” That made Ashton shiver. He thought he hadn’t looked that bad. No one had commented on it before. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”

But no one had _asked._

“You’re the first one to ask about it, though.” Ashton huffed, a slight smile taking hold of his lips even through the tears.

“We’ve gone through too much together.” Michael sighed.

He then took his hand away, and Ashton felt his shoulder slump even lower, like Michael had been helping him with the weight, and now that he was gone, it crushed him against the couch. He felt exhausted.

“Why…” Michael started, and Ashton could feel his hesitance even if he wasn’t looking at the younger directly. Michael was flexing his calves, and that meant his whole body was tense. Ashton remembered that thing about him. The younger coughed a little, clearing his throat before starting to talk again. “Why did you call _me_?”

Ashton’s lips twisted upwards for a second as he closed his eyes. When he opened them again to glance to Michael at his left, the younger was even more tense than Ashton would have guessed. And Ashton just repeated his words back to him.

“We’ve gone through too much together.” He muttered.

He watched as Michael took that information in, processed it, his green eyes flitting between Michael’s own.

“I think you’re still the person that knows me the best.” Ashton added in a low voice. “And that scares me.”

Michael only blinked at that, not another outward response to Ashton’s admittance. But the older knew he was processing that too. He could see it faintly in his eyes, in how Michael had just clenched his jaw muscles, how his right index had gone straight for his tattoo. _Their_ tattoo.

Ashton hadn’t really planned on ever having another conversation with him. Hadn’t really planned on ever being face to face _again._ Much less on telling Michael these thoughts so candidly. And yet here they were. Ashton didn’t care for much anymore, so, what were a few late confessions about their relationship or what Ashton thought? They were nothing. Less than nothing.

“I don’t think I know you, Ash. At least not _this_ version of you.” Michael let out, finally glancing away from him. “The Ashton I know wouldn’t have given up, I think.”

And that was what hurt the most. Because Michael was right. He was right, and Ashton knew it. Felt it deep in his bones. That was _why_ he had called Michael. Agreed to meet up with him. Because he _knew_ he had changed. And he knew Michael would call him out on it. And Ashton knew exactly _what_ had changed within him.

“You’re right.” He sent a smile towards Michael, raising up his hand and wiping his own tears away, even if it felt useless, given that there were still more falling relentlessly from his eyes. “You’re right, Mike.”

He reached for his glass on the table, taking a big gulp and leaving it again. The water tasted salty, but Ashton guessed those were the tears that had reached his lips. He swallowed them, the same as he tried swallowing the lump in his throat. Didn’t mean he was successful on the last one.

“You asked why I called _you._ I think it was exactly because of that.” Ashton whispered defeatedly. “I’m sorry I did, though. I never should have bothe–”

“Bothered? Ash?” Michael cut him, looking at him with something burning in his eyes. “I’m not fucking _bothered_. I am _worried_ sick.” He was raising his voice, and it made Ashton cowered in his seat. “Why didn’t you talk to anyone about this?”

Ashton just shrugged as another batch of tears started falling from his eyes. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable again. And scared. He didn’t want to rely on anyone, especially _not_ on Michael. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Mike. It’s not your job anymore.” Ashton sent him a tight smile, fighting to take control of himself, but Michael’s face was beginning to grow somewhat angry, and the feeling of uncomfortableness and the weight on Ashton’s chest grew bigger.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Michael exclaimed, getting up of the sofa and looking down at him, his hands flying in a wild gesture. “Don’t you know that I’m always going to care for you? Worry about _you_?”

The way Michael’s voice broke at the last you made Ashton’s breathing even harder. There was a constant pain in his chest now, there was a lump in his throat, and he couldn’t get his words out. Tears were still streaming down his face. And he felt awful. He shouldn’t have come here. He had done that out of selfish reasons. Michael didn’t deserve this.

“I don’t care how many years pass.” Michael said, this time much gentler and quieter than before, almost like he felt defeated. “I don’t even care if you don’t care about me. I’m always going to feel something for you, Ash. And I don’t even mean that in a romantic sense.” Michael sighed, shaking his head and coming back closer to him. “But– _fuck_. You can’t tell me not to worry about you. Not after seeing you like this.” Michael kept on, sitting on the coffee table before Ashton and grabbing his knees. He was trying to make Ashton look him in the eye, the older knew it. But it was difficult, it just was. “Please, Ash. Please, tell me you’re going to do something about this. _Please_.”

Ashton still felt the weight constricting his chest, felt it expanding to his throat, and he forced it all down. He had had a lot of practice doing that. He had been doing it for ages. When he could not crumble in public, he just forced it all down. And so he did now, wiping away the tears and swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“But I don’t want to, Mike.” He chuckled. “I’ve never wanted to.”

Michael frowned at that, taking his hands away slowly. He looked hurt. And somehow that seemed strange to Ashton. Alien. That Michael would look at him like that.

“What about your family?”

“I never said I would… do _that_ , Mike.” Ashton shuddered at what the younger was suggesting. Ashton had never even entertained _that_ idea. He just didn’t see the purpose of talking to anyone about what he was feeling. It just all seemed like bullshit to him. And there it was again. Hypocrisy staring at him in the face. But he would never considered that way out. “I could never do that to them. I’m not like that.”

“I _know_.” Michael agreed. “But… you should still talk to someone, Ash.” He sighed, before he started again. “It helps. I _swear_ it does.”

Ashton scrunched up his face. He didn’t think he could do that.

“I don’t care, Mike. I don’t want to do anything about it. I _don’t_.” Ashton insisted, and he could feel how the energy drained out of Michael in front of him. “It’ll just go away, eventually.” He sighed. Putting back the lid on top of the messed-up jar of feelings inside his chest. Closing it was proving more difficult than ever before, and Ashton took a deep breath, schooling his face into a smile as he looked up to Michael’s eyes. “It went away for a time before. I just have to wait.”

“I can’t believe _you_ believe that.” Michael shook his head, his eyes serious as he locked his gaze on Ashton. “I’m not that stupid, and neither are you.”

Ashton pursed his lips and shrugged. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable again. A nagging feeling peeling away at the weight on his chest, like a beast was trying to scratch his way out from inside him. Ashton knew the beast’s name. He had known for a while. And it still made him afraid to even acknowledge it. Naming things gave them power. And as he had said, it went away before. Ashton was happy, _really happy_ , for some time. And it went away on its own. And with Michael’s _help._

Maybe that was why Ashton’s brain had made him press those numbers onto his phone, barely seeing through the tears. Maybe it had been the memory of that previous dark time going away because of his relationship with Michael that had made him press call, waiting to hear the younger’s voice. Because his subconscious had known that Michael had meant _happiness_ , once upon a time. And even if Ashton didn’t want to actively –or in any way at all– seek help, maybe he was searching for ways to stop feeling this way.

He was _fucked_ , though. Ashton had never wanted to get back in touch with Michael. He had been clear. With himself, and Michael. He had felt it would be best if they just parted completely, no strings left hanging between them. But Ashton realised now, shaking his head weakly, that there would always be a string or two hanging between them. Ashton had never loved anyone like he had loved Michael. Didn’t think he ever would. He hadn’t had experiences he had had with Michael with anyone else. Ashton had only _been_ with Michael.

He had been kind of _lost_ without him.

“Ash.” He heard the younger whisper, bringing him out of his thoughts. “I understand you not wanting to talk. You know I do.”

He felt Michael’s hand reaching up to his face, the younger’s thumb gently wiping away a stray tear Ashton hadn’t even felt falling. This time he didn’t flinch away. Michael’s touch was warm now. It felt like something Ashton used to know like the back of his hand. It was loving. And yet… it was different from what it had been. It wasn’t quite the same.

“I also know that getting help is the only way to not fall back into it.” Michael sighed, and his lips twitched upwards for just a second. “You may get out by yourself, but… You shouldn’t feel like this. And if you don’t get help, I don’t see how you can stop it.”

Ashton sniffled, nose half-blocked from all the crying. There was a headache beginning to grow in his skull, probably a product of all the crying he had done. Ashton thought he should have been used to crying by now. He had been crying every day about one thing or another for a while. He should have been used to the blocked and runny nose, to the headaches and the red swollen eyes. And yet he never got used to it.

Ashton was afraid some day he would. He was afraid some day all these things would be even more engraved into his very being than they were right now. Ashton was afraid a day would come when he didn’t remember what being happy felt like, and that those moments of happiness would always be just fleeting past him, not the norm. He was terrified of that becoming the norm, even if he told Michael it would surely go away on its own. Michael said it. Neither of them believed that.

Truth was, Ashton was just too tired to even consider fighting against this. Whatever it was. He was just too tired. He had been fighting for things all his life, and now he felt his strength leaving him from every single pore, floating away, weaker with each breath. Ashton felt more often than not like an empty shell, just a shadow of his former self, in which only tiredness and sadness and all things dark swirled around, thinking for him, carrying his body for him. It was a terrifying thought.

“I’m scared.” He admitted in a whisper.

He saw the reaction on Michael’s eyes just a second before he felt the younger boy embracing him, squeezing him in his arms. Ashton stayed still for a few seconds, frozen. Michael’s touch was foreign, and it felt like the hug of a stranger. Uncomfortable and awkward. But then the smell Michael’s cologne reached his nose. His shampoo. _Michael_. Ashton would have remembered those scents anywhere, and they made him melt into the hug, sighing as he slowly rose his arms to hug the younger back. Michael squeezed his hold on him, one of his hands coming up to cradle Ashton’s head, fingers stroking his hair, and it was just… It was just like they were back to when they were together, to the carefree long summer days, the laughter and the smiles and the late night talks. The hug felt like coming home. Ashton felt _safe_.

It wasn’t exactly the same Michael had made him feel back then. It could never be. They had grown up, grown apart. They weren’t _in love_. But it felt close enough that the weight on Ashton’s chest dissipated like it never had been there in the first place. Ashton could _breathe_. And the tears falling down his face didn’t sting as much as they had before. His heart didn’t hurt as much.

Michael tightened his hold in him once more, and Ashton heard something that sounded suspiciously close to a sob next to his ear. It made his heart break a little. He hadn’t intended to crash back into Michael’s life. He hadn’t intended on making the boy cry, or worry, or anything. Ashton didn’t want that. He had never once wanted tears on Michael’s eyes. Not when they were together, not when they broke up, not after.

And yet he was selfish, because being back in the younger’s arms was making him feel _safe_ , and it was such a soothing feeling after such a long period of loneliness, that Ashton didn’t want to let it go. So he buried his face in Michael’s neck and squeezed him closer, not even caring that his own tears were wetting the younger boy’s tee. It didn’t matter.

“It’ll be okay, Ash.” Michael whispered. And Ashton had been right, he was crying.

The notion made him start to cry again, shaking in Michael’s arms. Crying sometimes felt cathartic, he knew. And it did, right now. But it also made him feel worse. Guilt and relief swirled around in his chest, battling to win even as Ashton knew neither would. It was exhausting. He _was_ exhausted.

“I’m just so _tired_ , Mike.” He sobbed out, clutching Michael’s tee in his fists, tightening them. “I’m so tired.”

“I know.”

Michael cradled him closer at that. It was awkward, with him still sat in the coffee table and Ashton on the couch, but the older didn’t want to let go. Couldn’t let go. Ashton clutched Michael closer as if he needed him to breathe. And it was such a strange feeling, to think of the younger like that, when they hadn’t even spoken for years. When the last time they saw each other face to face was the day it all ended between them.

Michael felt like a stranger to him. Ashton didn’t know who the boy was now, but he still _knew_ him. Ashton knew his core, he knew his voice, his touch, his way of thinking. He knew Michael’s scent by memory. He knew his laugh and the way he cried. He knew all these things still. Michael was a stranger, now, but not really. He was still the boy who had been Ashton’s best friend for years. He was still the boy Ashton had fell in and out of love back then. He was still _Michael_. But a different Michael.

And it felt weird, selfish, for Ashton to cling to Michael now, when he had been the one to send him away back then. When he had been the one to break them. To break the younger’s heart. It felt wrong to depend on him now. To ask this of Michael, to ask him to hold him as he fell apart. And still Ashton didn’t let go. He couldn’t stop crying, and he couldn’t stop feeling guilty for needing Michael that way, guilty for making him cry and worry in the process, and yet he didn’t let go. He couldn’t. Michael was like a warm, soothing light, calming him, holding him through it all. And Ashton couldn’t let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you guys thought! Knowing what you think gives me life hahahh


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